Unrequited
by AngelDeLumiere
Summary: It was her missing warmth that had awoken him from his dreamless slumber. Where she should have lain was barely warm to the touch. She had not been there for some time.


It was her missing warmth that had awoken him from his dreamless slumber. He rolled over to where she should have lain peacefully asleep. An emerald eye cracked open when his roaming arm could not find her soft, supple body. He saw the silk sheets had been gently pushed back so as to not disturb him. Where she should have lain was barely warm to the touch. She had not been there for some time.

Their room was quiet. There were no animals in Las Noches to disturb them. They were wise to avoid the marble palace that groaned each day with the spiritual pressure that it incased. He opened both of his eyes to scan the room for her, though he needn't have. He was so attuned to her reiatsu that he knew her location at all times. He opened his eyes out of courtesy for her. She was significantly weaker than he, and had trouble even sensing him. Ulquiorra was unperturbed. At least, now she tried.

His beloved wife sat on the windowsill, staring out at the vast expanse of nothing that had been her home for the past ten years. The moonlight bathed her naked form in a silver glow, making her look like the ethereal being she was. One arm rested beneath her ample breasts which still enticed him after all of their years together. The other hand lay beneath her heavily swollen stomach. She carried their fifth child, another son no doubt. They had only ever known the pleasure of sons, and though he yearned for a daughter with a smile just as sweet as her mother's, and a touch just as gentle. Ulquiorra knew that it would not have been safe for a girl. He had a hard enough time protecting Orihime from perverted rapists and Aizne-sama. A daughter mean fresh meat that any male would seduce or rape, ad she too would serve in Aizem-sama's growing army. That was just begging for abuse, rape and death. His wife would be beside herself if she lost a child to the carnage of war.

The winter war still rage on all around them. The shinigami had them out numbered, and even outmatched in some cases, but they did not have his Orihime. With her, Aizen-sama was invincible. No matter how many times an arrancar was slain, she always erased time and brought them back. It was her power that prolonged the war so. After every battle, every skirmish, Aizen-sama would call her to the throne room where body after body lay in neat rows. Stoically, she brought all of them back to life. There were no more tears of regret as she healed. The knowledge that she healed those who slaughtered her friends had once proved to be too much. Aizen-sama always allowed her tears of pain, but Ulquiorra did not permit them. She quickly learned not to cry. Now she was stoic and emotionless, and it all was his doing. He comforted himself by thinking that, at least, she did not cry.

Ulquiorra was proud to say that she had never resurrected him. He was too wise, and too strong for that. Secretly, he was afraid that, for him, she would make the exception. For him, she would refuse Aizen-sama's orders to bring him back to life.

Slowly standing so as to not startle her, he walked over to her. His movements were silent, as always, but she could still sense him. He was foolish to think that she was so weak that she did not know his whereabouts. No. She could feel his presence just like she could feel that of her children. He was her husband, after all.

Orihime pressed her forehead against the windowpane. It was cool, and it felt good against her warm forehead. A shiver ran down her spine, cooling her entire body. Her breath fogged the crystalline glass as she looked at the starless sky; her new home was far from beautiful. A tear rolled dow the curve of her cheek. It hit the marble windowsill, forming a pool of pain that reflected her eyes swollen from sorrow. Ulquiorra saw her distress and wiped the trail from her cheek. She did not turn to face him; that would be asking too much of her soul. Each time she saw the face of her kidnapper, her aggressor, her rapist…her _husband_, a little bit of her died. This wasn't the life she had hoped for, and this was certainly nothing like her dreams. It was her nightmare.

She had had another nightmare. He knew it as well, and she was surprised that he had not been disturbed her tossing and turning. She had been walking in a sea of blood. The hems of her pure white robes were stained with crimson blood. All around her were bodies that had been brutally desecrated. Their robes were gone, leaving nothing to distinguish them from each other. Arrancar or shinigami? She was only supposed to heal the arrancar. Orihime was unwilling to risk the wrath of her master or her husband by healing them all. So, instead, she had walked passed them. She walked a long time, her surroundings constantly shifting. She had begun her journey in Las Noches, where the fallen bodies were arrancar. Some of them were her few friends, and much to her pain, her own children.

The scenery quickly changed to the living world. The pristine palace was replaced with decaying metal skyscrapers, burning from the wreckage. It was as if there had been a nuclear war while she was gone. She knew that that was not the case: she still felt the remnants of reiatsu lingering in the air. She walked until she realized that she was in Karakura Town, near Ichigo's home. She took off running, hoping to see her friends again. Would they still remember her? She pushed her body to its limits. It was hard for her too run, but she wasn't sure why. She stopped to look at herself in a store window. She was fifteen again, in her school uniform. Glancing down at her wrist, she did not see the reiatsu suppressing bracelet. Her heart raced. Perhaps it was all a dream. Perhaps she had never lived in Huece Mundo, perhaps she had never heard of all of her friends dying, perhaps it was all a dream. Her heart soared at the hope.

She ran with a renewed vigor, a smile caressing her face as tears of joy streamed down her cheeks. Ichigo was still alive, and he still might love her! She stopped at the corner and her eyes fell on the Kurosaki house. Orihime screamed. The house was destroyed. Flames lingered as the acrid stench of death filled the air. She saw more bodies--there always were bodies. She had not noticed them in her determination to see that all was right in the world, but now, they were all she could see. She saw Keigo Asano laying, his face burned beyond recognition. There was Chizuru, naked and violated. Her eyes were wide open as she died; the her spirit was in pain and broken by the time they had finished with her. She saw Ichigo's sisters lying together, huddled up like yin and yang. Their throats had been slit. There was Isshin Kurosaki. He had tried to defend his daughters, but the merciless arrancar had laughed at his pain. They toyed with him before torturing him for information. He had stayed strong to the end, and not divulged a secret. He had died, and his soul was destroyed. He had not hope of reaching Soul Society.

And then…she saw Tatsuki. Orihime had screamed for her friend as she rushed over to her. Tatsuki had matured and grown into a beautiful woman. Her hair was longer and she a softer edge in her face. Orihime saw the wedding band on her finger, and she knew that her best friend had married Ichigo. Her heart broke. Orihime had always known on some level that Ichigo was in love with Tatsuki, and she with him. They had a certain air about them when they were together. "Tatsuki," Orihime sobbed as she held her dearest friend.

Though the young bride had not been abused in any way and her death had been quick, Orihime felt like this was the most cruel thing that Aizen had ever done. Tatsuki had died using her body as a shield against a cero blast. Beneath her was her quivering daughter. She had orange hair, just like her father, and her mother's strong eyes. She had suffocated under her mother's body, sobbing and tightly clutching to the woman, unable to understand what was happening. Orihime's gaze landed on the girl's necklace. She had been named Orihime after her. Her heart pounded and she began to sob anew. How could one man be so cruel as to destroy countless lives to gain nothing?

She couldn't move. The pain and depression was too strong. Somehow, the scenery changed again, and she found the strength to move. She walked through the Rukongai this time. She saw the bodies of Ganju, and Kukaku, slaughtered with the faceless mass around her. She tried not to care for these souls. They were gone forever, destroyed so there was no chance for reincarnation. They were just…gone. She walked through the gates to the Soul Society. The neat rows of buildings were no more. The divisions were in chaos, but it was a silent, still chaos. She could hear the screams of her friends and comrades as they died. They were loud and oppressive, calling for her, begging her to help them.

The bodies were everywhere. She saw Rangiku with her stomach carved open. Rukia hung crucified--Aizen was never one to forgive a slight. Ishida was near Nemu. They were together in death as they had been in life. Orihime heard that their wedding had been grand. She wished that she could have gone, and seen her good friend marry the woman that was so obviously his perfect match in every way. She walked pas Byakuya who died trying to save Rukia. He would not fail his precious wife again. The bodies began to mingle together, arrancar, espada, and shinigami.

At first, she was uncaring, but as time went on, she could not help the tears that poured from her eyes. It was painfully obvious that this was the result of the winter war. All these people had died brutally, and they were meant to stay dead. So many lives had been lost, and souls slain that Orihime suddenly wondered if it was worth it. If Aizen had wanted to conquer the entire world, to be so filled with power, he should have not destroyed all he wanted to rule. The crazed man would not see it in the same light as her, but that did not matter as the cold realization swept over her.

Orihime collapsed on her knees when she could take the death and destruction no more. Sobs wracked her body as she realized the total fatality rate that she had caused.

"Orihime," a voice rasped out.

Shocked, she looked down. Orihime kneeled beside Ichigo Kurosaki. His face was bloodied and bruised. His right eye was swollen shut and colored an ugly purple. Blood dripped out of his nose where it coagulated on his chin. His hollow mask was broken off, laying by his shoulder. His clothes were torn and she saw his chest. The muscle and bone were showing in multiple places. His entire body was beaten black and blue. She saw the burn marks from the many cero blasts and wounds marks that looked so familiar. Only one person--no, one _espada_ had the ability to inflict such a wound.

"Orihime," Ichigo whispered again. His bloody hand reached up to stroke away the hair that hung in her face. He frowned. "Do-don't cry," he wheezed out. He was having trouble breathing. She whimpered. He was the only soul in the Soul Society still alive.

"Ichigo," she muttered as his thumb wiped away the trail of tears on her cheek. "I'm so sorry, Ichigo,"

"Don't be, Orihime. We saved you. We saved you," he gasped out.

"You did," she cried into his hand, "You did,"

"I killed him," Ichigo confessed.

"Who?"

"That bastard…he took you from…" Ichigo gasped.

Orihime's head whipped around. No. That was impossible. He was much too strong to be defeated. "No," she whispered.

"He'll never take you from me…ag…again," Ichigo muttered.

Orihime didn't hear him. She was on her heels, running. Sure enough, less than ten meters from Ichigo, a body lay. It was a body that she knew as well as her own. Ulquiorra lay still and not breathing. His hollow bones were pulled from his head, leaving him bleeding profusely. His clothes that were always so immaculate were soiled beyond repair. His haunting green eyes were closed, never to be opened again.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" she screamed loudly.

She had woken up after that. Her eyes searched until she could confirm that her husband still lay beside her, unharmed. Orihime knew that she would not be able to go back to sleep after that brutal nightmare. If she closed her eyes, she knew that she could not go back to sleep after that. So, she walked over to the window to make sure that nothing had changed since she had gone to bed. Everything was as it should be in the Hueco Mundo.

Ulquiorra wrapped his arms around her, holding her against his stomach. She did not acknowledge him. Tears continued to pour down her cheeks. She cried because she was scared, scared for: her, her husband, her children, and her friends who had forgotten her. She cried because she could not forgive Ulquiorra for kidnapping her. She cried because she feared that her children would grow up and battle for Aizen. She cried because she was afraid that she might not be able to heal her family, and for the first time, the war would touch the halls of Las Noches. She cried because there were so many things in life that she wanted to do but could not. Most importantly, she cried because of her husband. She cried because she loved him with all of her heart, and Ulquiorra would never know.

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**A/N:** I don't know what inspired this one. I wasn't in a depressing mood or whatever, I just started to write and this is what happened. I really do love the Ulquihime pairing, even though it will never ever happen. This is my tribute to their love, and how it is a hopeless, unrequited thing.


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